


Room Servicing

by pawns (driftingstar)



Series: rule 34 [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Gun Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driftingstar/pseuds/pawns
Summary: Assassins AU.  Yuugo and Yuuri are technically on a mission, but Yuuri has other plans.Pawnshipping, smut, PWP. (Also I am literally unable to not use puns to name things.)





	

 

 

Yuugo still isn't quite sure how he got here, lounging around on the hotel bed in a thousand dollar suit. His shoes are somewhere in the other room but he's not too bothered. The silk sheets are soft beneath his skin and the room would be the perfect temperature to take a nap if only if he wasn't supposed to be on a job.

 

But he's getting thoroughly bored of watching Yuuri apply his makeup.

 

“I still don't know why we couldn't just be bellboys or something,” he complains, tugging self-consciously at his cufflinks.  Diamond, at his partner's insistence.  He feels entirely out of place like a stranger in his own skin and half thinks that he will end up ripping something the moment he breathes wrong.

 

Yuuri swats at the air in his general direction with a perfectly manicured hand, blood red nails glistening in the dim lighting.  

 

“Hush now,” he says dismissively as he puts the finishing touches on his mascara with a deft flick of his wrist.  “I'm busy.  Perfection takes time, you know.”

 

Yuuri flutters his long, dark lashes in the mirror and gives him a grin that would have been friendly if it didn't have an unsettling amount of teeth. “Besides, what would be the fun in that cliché? And I’m deeply offended if this is your way of implying that I look like some sort of _servant_.”

 

Used to Yuuri’s ridiculous diva-like personality, Yuugo only rolls his eyes and rolls over on the bed, trying to get comfortable. The actual party isn’t until eight and he has no idea why Yuuri insisted on arriving hours early.  Not even real girls need _that_ much time to put on makeup, right?

 

But the sudden depression on the bed makes him look up and he finds himself gazing up into scheming magenta eyes, shadowed by long, full lashes.  Yuuri’s lashes had already been ridiculously long but the mascara makes him look almost like one of those European dolls. Tamed violet hair falls around his face in silky curls and tickles the tops of his bare shoulders.  Yuuri’s long, sleek evening gown clings to the curves of his body, stretching over the artificial swell of his chest and hugging his hips, until it splits at the thigh.  A rose-studded choker completes the ensemble.                                                                                              

 

“Don't do that,” Yuuri says, still with that mad grin, reaching out to coil those sharp nailed fingers around his tie and gives it a sharp yank. “You'll ruin your suit.”  

 

Yuugo’s mouth suddenly goes dry.  He parts his lips but no sound comes out of them as his mind screeches to a halt.  The pair of false, silicon breasts look distressingly convincing and Yuugo finds himself averting his eyes as a faint blush rises up into his cheeks.

 

“Aren't you the one ruining it now?” he points out dryly, reaching up to remove Yuuri’s hand from his tie.  Only to yelp as his wrists are grabbed and expertly pinned down above his head.

 

“Hey, what the hell--?” Yuugo’s startled exclamation is abruptly swallowed up by a pair of red, painted lips and his senses are suddenly overwhelmed when a warm, wet tongue, _Yuuri’s_ tongue, plunges into his mouth.  His hands flap around in a gesture that can only be described as panicked flailing.  He can feel Yuuri’s tongue pushing past his lips, hot and wet and predatory, threatening to swallow him whole.  

 

When Yuuri finally pulls back, he's completely out of breath, his cheeks flushed and his crystal blue eyes glassy. His lips are swollen and smudged red from Yuuri’s lip gloss. A thin string of saliva connects their lips until it breaks off and drips down his chin.  Yuuri smirks down at him with an expression of supreme self-satisfaction, slowly licking away their saliva and the rest of the smudged paint. The bastard barely even looks ruffled; not a single hair out of place.

 

“The hell was that?” Yuugo demands shakily as soon as he remembers how to breathe again.

 

“That,” says Yuuri, leaning in teasingly to brush their lips together once more. “Was a kiss.”  

 

Yuugo colours even further and tries to shove him off with his knees. “I know that much, jerkface! _Why_ are you kissing me? We're supposed to be working, right? Yuuya and Yuuto are waiting--”  Yuugo goes a little bit cross-eyed when Yuuri suddenly presses a finger against his lips, effectively silencing him as he leans in to whisper in his ear.

 

“No, they're not.  Why do you think I booked the room so much earlier?”

 

Yuugo gapes soundlessly for a second, staring up at his partner with something like disbelief bordering outrage and Yuuri laughs in his face. He laughs like a child, his mouth too wide and his eyes closed in mirth and for a moment, it's purely Yuuri beneath this beautifully painted stranger.  Rude, sarcastic, slightly homicidal Yuuri.

 

He was so distracted by his thoughts that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Yuuri had torn open his silken shirt, sending the silver buttons clattering to the ground.

 

“What--- _hey!_ What gives?!” Yuugo growls furiously and wriggles his wrists out of Yuuri’s one-handed grip.  “That was _expensive_! Really fucking expensive-- Mmffph.”  Yuugo’s protests are skillfully cut off once more when one of Yuuri’s hands cups the back of his head and drags him up into another casually brutal kiss.  His hands scramble for purchase and end up gripping Yuuri’s shoulders with almost bruising force.  He makes an embarrassing noise when Yuuri’s fingers brush along his bared skin, fluttering lightly across the little pink buds on his chest which perks up beneath his touch, much to Yuugo’s mortification.

 

His skin flushes further when those teasing fingers pause, swirling lazily around one of his nipples before latching onto the little nub and twisting it cruelly.  Yuugo cries out, his spine curving back as he arches helplessly up against his hand.

 

Yuuri pulls back slightly just to smirk at how red he's gotten and darts forward to lick a wet trail up his cheek and dips below his eyes to brush away the tiny tears that had formed in his eyes.  “Should a boy really be this sensitive here?” he says gleefully, giving his poor little nipple another tug.  “Maybe the dress would have suited you better. Hm, _Yuu-gou_?”

 

Yuugo lets out an outraged growl and his hands fly up to tangle mercilessly in Yuuri’s meticulously tamed locks and crush their mouths together once more. This time, he kisses back, a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, vying for dominance out of pure spite.  He’s pretty sure Yuuri bites him at one point and he reflexively returns the favour. Saliva drips down their chins but neither of them cares.

 

When they eventually come up for air again, Yuuri frowns down at him. This time, both of them are flushed and breathing hard.  “You messed up my hair,” he informs him severely.

 

“You started it, you ass!” Yuugo retorts indignantly, reaching up to his poor shirt buttons as if to try to ascertain the damage. This is why he carries around sewing kit, he thinks gloomily.  He makes to get up but Yuuri apparently has other plans when he shoves him down and straddles him, eyeing him in a way that makes Yuugo suddenly feel like a slab of meat on a chopping board.

 

“Hush,” Yuuri says in a way that is not in the least bit soothing as his hands reach up to tug sharply at his blond bangs, drawing an irritated hiss.  Yuugo tries to swat his hands away, only to find his wrists pinned again for his troubles.  Yuugo doesn't think much of it, until he hears the click.

 

“You didn't,” he says, horrified.

 

“I think you'll find I did,” Yuuri replies, kissing his cheek.  “And it's really your own fault for squirming so much.”

 

“You didn't have to _handcuff_ me!” Yuugo retorts, lashing out with a kick but Yuuri merely catches him around the ankles and parts his legs until he is kneeling between them and looking perfectly at home. “Asshole.”

 

Again, Yuuri merely shoots him that infuriating grin as he casually pushes the remains of his ruined shirt from his torso, leaving his chest bared in the dim lighting. Romantic, he’d called it when they first arrived.  “Sorry, didn't quite catch that,” he says sweetly, even as his hands are deftly undoing the buttons on his trousers.  Yuugo goes scarlet when he pushes them down to his thighs along with his boxers and leaving his entire torso exposed.  He tears his gaze away to glare furiously at the wallpaper when Yuuri gives him an appreciative leer.  

 

 _Mine_ , his magenta eyes seem to say as a long, pink tongue darts out slowly to lick his lips.

 

“You're so embarrassing!” Yuugo cries, wishing that his hands were free so he could deck the smug grin off his face. “Asshole! Pervert! Degenerate!”

 

“I'm cutting your alone time with Yuuto to two hours a week if you're going to start talking like him,” Yuuri mutters under his breath. Before Yuugo can respond to that bewildering nonsequitur, Yuuri is leaning forward and capturing his lips in a ravenous, devouring kiss that Yuugo has no choice but to echo.  He finds himself involuntarily moaning into his mouth when a sharp-nailed hand presses deliberately against his crotch.  

 

Yuugo is the first to run out of air and he breaks away, gasping for breath.

 

“Yuuri…” he tries to say reproachfully but his voice sounds more like a whimper even to his own ears.  The jerk’s only response is to press down harder.

 

“Yes, dear?” The endearment rolls smoothly off Yuuri’s tongue as he dips his head down to lap at his collarbone and it drags another gasp from his lips.  His lipstick smears off onto his skin, leaving blood red streaks that stand out vividly against the pale ivory.  Whatever half-formed complaints Yuugo had are promptly erased when that wicked hand starts to move, gliding across his sensitive skin with slow, languid strokes. His fingers draw back ever so slightly and Yuugo’s body shudders helplessly as the edge of his nails scrape against the tip of his cock.  His hips jerk as pleasure ripples through his body.

 

“A-Asshole.”  Yuugo is only vaguely aware that he’s reusing insults again and sure enough, Yuuri clicks his tongue at him.

 

“Running out already, are we?” he asks with a look of mock disappointment as he tucks a stray lock behind his ear. The motion makes his dangling earrings sway and catch the light.  “Pity.  Normally you put up more of a fight than this.”  

 

Yuugo makes the mistake of opening his mouth to retort which gives Yuuri the opportunity to push his fingers past his lips. He has half a mind to bite him again.  Instead, he squirms to free his legs from his trousers and irreverently kicks them to the side.  He wraps his legs around Yuuri’s waist to draw him closer, groaning softly as the silken texture of his crimson dress glides over his calves like water.  His hands twitch with the desire to explore Yuuri, to map out the contours of his skin and tangle in his hair.  Or to give him a good punch in the nose.  

 

“S-Shut up,” Yuugo says, red-faced and ashamed once Yuuri pulls his wet digits back again but the other only chuckles into his neck, his silent mocking several times worse than anything he could have said.  The vibrations of his throat send another shiver down his spine.

 

The soft rustling of silk draws a wary frown to his face as he eyes Yuuri’s unwavering feline smile.  Before he can give voice to his suspicions, Yuuri casually hikes his skirts aside and all of Yuugo’s higher brain functions grind to a stuttering halt.  His wide-eyed gaze travels up the pale column of his leg and a whimper escapes his lips when he notices the elegant 18th century Colt strapped to his garter.  How did he manage to get that past security?!

 

“Why yes, there’s a gun between my legs,” Yuuri purrs at the confusion on his face, looking far too amused than he has any right being. “And I _am_ happy to see you.”

 

He carelessly unhooks the pistol and spins it around in his hand, clicking the safety off and presses the barrel to his belly.  Yuugo makes a strangled noise in his throat and digs his heels into Yuuri’s back.

 

“Watch where you're pointing that thing!” he exclaims, not entirely confident that Yuuri won’t _actually_ shoot him on a whim.  But the metal is warm from the heat between Yuuri’s thighs and Yuugo is helpless to do anything besides shudder as Yuuri drags the loaded gun down the smooth panes of his flat stomach.  He dips it into his navel, swirling around it like a lover’s kiss before he drags it further down, lightly brushing his swollen member.

 

“You s-sicko…” A red-faced Yuugo condemns with his mouth but his body reacts nonetheless, shuddering as the metal drags against his cock with a near painful slowness.  He bites down on his lips, hard enough to draw blood but an embarrassing noise escapes anyway.

 

Yuuri only tuts at him and nudges his legs further apart and presses the long, elegant barrel into a more intimate area. “As ungrateful as always.  And aren’t you the one enjoying yourself just a bit too much?”  Yuugo cries in response, his fevered body grinding insistently against the metal.  

 

Yuuri’s eyes are bright when he meets them, sparkling with a sadistic sort of delight as he pushes it in deeper, just breaching the ring of delicate muscle.  “You really _are_ the best,” he says and Yuugo is fairly certain that it isn’t a compliment.  “Look at you. You’re loving this!  You’re actually a huge pervert, aren’t you! I can never get bored of you.”

 

“I’m… I’m _not_ !”  Yuugo glares fiercely up at him, his cheeks permanently red from mortification. He’s _not_ .  Yuuri is the one who’s into all this weird, kinky shit like handcuffs and guns and gags.  But he isn’t helping his case at all when he lets out a rather desperate whine when the barrel is abruptly withdrawn.  His chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath.  “You’re… you’re the one who's a pervert, _pervert_.”  

 

He’s only half aware of how he looks now. His mussed hair is escaping from his high ponytail and spilling onto the sheets. His lips are puffy and swollen from being bitten and Yuuri’s lip gloss stains them crimson. His pale skin is flushed and glistening with a faint sheen of sweat.  And all Yuuri had done was mostly just a bit of kissing. It’s a little pathetic but for some twisted reason, Yuuri seems to be into that.  Enjoying his humiliation.

 

Yuuri hums and presses his lips teasingly to the tip of his gun which only makes Yuugo go redder before he turns the safety back on with an elegant flick of his fingers. He tucks it back into his skirts with deliberate slowness, teasing the silken fabric away from his legs and is perfectly aware of the way Yuugo’s eyes follow the pale curve of his thighs and the way his throat tightens. Then, Yuugo chokes.

 

“See something you like?” Yuuri teases.

 

And somehow, Yuugo has managed to turn into even more of a pathetic, stammering mess. His mouth opens and shuts with a click.  He licks his lips nervously before he tries again. “You’re-- you’re--?”

 

Yuuri laughs in his face as he slowly dies of secondhand embarrassment and he shamelessly spreads his legs wider.

 

“What, you _don't_ like them?” he teases, hooking a finger in the silk panties that are inexplicably clinging to the curve of his hips.  Purple silk edged with black lace and leaving absolutely nothing to Yuugo’s out of control imagination.

 

Yuugo whimpers.  He can see that Yuuri is fully hard, straining against the delicate _female_ undergarments and looking so _lewd._  Yet, he can’t help staring, mesmerized.  Swallowing hard as saliva suddenly floods his mouth when he notices a damp patch against the purple silk.

 

Yuuri moves against him carelessly and drags another strangled moan from Yuugo’s lips.  He can clearly feel his length pressed against his belly through the thin layer of silk and lace.  Throughout it all, Yuuri still looks unfairly unaffected, though a tiny hint of redness is starting to show through the layers of makeup on his face.  Yuugo’s eyes clamp shut when Yuuri _shifts_ and pleasure spikes as he grinds their shafts together.  Long, elegant fingers dance lightly against his over-sensitive skin, making him buck and squirm beneath him.

 

“Yuuri… _Yuuri_ !” Yuugo is barely aware that his lips are moving, his mind is only driven by the maddening need for _more_ . For Yuuri to rub against him harder, to stir up more of that painfully delicious friction. His hands strain against the cuffs, digging faint white lines into his wrists but the minor discomfort is offset by the liquid pleasure in his veins.  Then Yuuri _stops_ and Yuugo rocks up against him with an irritated whine.  “What _now_?” he complains, straining to get a look, “Why d’you- aah?!”

 

He shrieks when something cold and slippery drips onto his thighs and kicks out in surprise, eliciting an annoyed little huff from Yuuri as he smacks his bare ass in admonition. Yuugo flinches but his stupid, traitorous dick only gets harder.

 

“Stay _still_ ,” he scolds, pressing a two slicked digits against his entrance.  He swirls the digits almost gently around his quivering rim before he pushes them inside. Naturally, Yuugo squirms harder; Yuuri is cruel, moving with barely any regard for his comfort. _The fucker_.    

 

But once again, that heady, feverish pleasure overtakes him.

 

“Aaah… ngh…” Yuugo’s mouth falls open, heedless of the thin trail of saliva trickling down his chin.  He can feel those sharp nails scrape along his walls as Yuuri starts to pump and scissor his fingers with deliberate slowness as if to make sure that he can feel every movement.   His body shudders in surrender as he parts his legs further, rolling his hips with needy little cries. Yuuri adds another slicked finger and Yuugo moans at the satisfying feeling of fullness.  As much as Yuuri was a horrible, sadistic bastard, he’s memorized all the ins and outs of his body and knows exactly what to do to drive him insane.  

 

Though something still bothers him and he finally realizes what it is when he notices that Yuuri slicking up his cock with more of that lube.

 

“H-Hey.  Hey wait a sec,” Yuugo tries his best to say, even though forming thoughts is starting to become more and more impossible.  “But… but I thought-- The dress?”

 

Yuuri’s fingers pause as he glances down at him with impatience and raises one of those ridiculous eyebrows.

 

“You _thought_?” he repeats with an unnecessary emphasis on the last word that makes Yuugo colour even more.  Yuugo bites his swollen lips and glares off to the side as he would rather die than complete that thought out loud.

 

But Yuuri knows him well enough to guess at it anyway.

 

“Ohhh,” he says, almost like a child, before glee erupts over his features and he laughs right in his face.  “You thought you would get to top? Maybe next time, sweetie.”

 

Yuugo is about to protest, but his words transform into a whine when Yuuri withdraws his fingers with a squelch so obscene that it lights his face up with a mortified blush.  A blush that only deepens as Yuuri carefully peels the panties to the side like he's trying not to get them dirty.  

 

Too fucking late.  There isn't anything about this situation that can be remotely described as _sane_ or _wholesome_ and it all completely went to hell the moment Yuuri decided he wanted to show up to the party in a fucking _dress_.

 

Their eyes lock and Yuugo feels like a mouse before a rattlesnake about to be devoured.  And he knows he's probably just as sick and twisted because he _craves_ it.  The helplessness, the weight and warmth of Yuuri’s body forcing him down into the sheets.  The knowledge that this mad, sadistic monster now has free rein to do anything he wants to him sends a thrill down his spine.

 

“Aren't you cute like this, Yuugou?” Yuuri coos, smirking down at him even as he deliberately mangled his name and Yuugo is too desperate to mind. Too desperate and too worked up to care about anything besides being stuffed again.  His legs tighten around Yuuri’s waist to draw him closer, moaning quietly when he can feel his warmth through the thin silk.

 

“Yuuri… Yuuri _please_ ,” he begs, fully knowing it will cost him later. He can feel Yuuri teasingly prodding his entrance, feel the length of his cock flush against the curve of his ass, rubbing but never quite breaching. It’s driving him insane.  “Please… I, I need you.”

 

But it's never so easy with Yuuri.

 

“That's it?” he tuts in mock disappointment.  “I thought I taught you how to beg better than that. I guess you don't want _this_ after all?” This, is Yuuri lining himself up with his puckered entrance and _stopping_.  He rubs his cock against it with lazy rocks of his hips and he reaches up to flick his nipples, rolling them between his fingers and tugging until Yuugo is screaming in desperation.

 

With a particularly vicious twist to his abused little nubs, Yuuri leans in to lick a stripe across his flushed chest, swirling his tongue around it almost as if in apology.  He looks entirely too pleased with himself as he purrs, “Well? What do you say?”

 

The only sounds Yuugo can muster up right now are pathetic whimpers as his body shudders beneath him. Yuuri is a goddamn bully, a sadist, and the only good thing about him is his face and his _fucking cock_ that he's not giving to him.  Yuugo whines, bucking his hips in a desperate attempt to impale himself on it.  He scowls furiously up at his asshole partner from a red, teary face as he abandons every shred of dignity that he might have still had.

 

“Stop… stop teasing me, you fucking _prick_ and just shove it in already!”

 

Yuuri blinks.  He’s staring down at him with bemusement and Yuugo does his best to glare back, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the embarrassment that is finally catching up with his outburst.

 

“Pfft--” Yuuri’s practically shaking with amusement. “You’ll never make it as a whore, you know? Not with that kind of mouth.”

 

For some reason, Yuugo feels irrationally offended as he opens his mouth to point out that wasn't what he said last night but instead, a strangled scream rips itself from his throat when Yuuri takes his suggestion and fully sheathes himself inside him in one brutal thrust.  Yuuri doesn’t give him a moment to adjust before he starts to _move_.  

 

He slams into him, hard enough for Yuugo to see stars, raking those wickedly sharp nails across his skin and leaving streaks of red that burned like fire, marking up snow white skin with criss crossing patterns. He feels so full; stuffed almost to bursting such that he can barely think, can barely even breathe. And Yuugo loves every second of it.

 

Yuuri doesn’t look nearly so composed now; he’s breathing just as hard, sweat beading down to leave streaks in his makeup.  His perfection is flaking away from his body in the form of smudged makeup and tangled hair but Yuugo thinks it suits him far better.  This is the real Yuuri.  A ravenous beast wrapped up in layers of human skin.  And unfortunately for him, he's decided that Yuugo is his prey.

 

(The most unfortunate part is that Yuugo can’t wait to be devoured.)

 

* * *

 

“Yuugo! Yuuri!”  Yuuri turns and raises a hand in a lazy greeting.  The last two members of their little team had finally shown up.

 

Yuuya beams at them as he waves.  His hair is twisted up in a stylish updo and is dyed fully red just for the occasion.  His deep, crimson cocktail dress nicely compliments his skin.  Yuuto, of course, is wearing that disapproving frown that he usually dons in Yuuri’s presence, along with a smart, black version of Yuugo’s thoroughly ruined tux.

 

“I am aware you checked in hours ago,” Yuuto says wryly, flicking imaginary lint off his lapel.  “And yet, how is it that you still managed to be late?  And what happened to your tux?”

 

The last question was very obviously directed at Yuugo who stiffens and tries to wedge himself more firmly into his hiding place behind Yuuri’s back. Naturally, Yuuri side-steps and takes Yuugo’s cover with him.

 

“Yuu-Yuuri!” he protests, throwing his gloved hands over his red cheeks as Yuuya and Yuuto lean in with interest.

 

“Ohh?” Yuuya says, with a glint in his eye.  He leans in to playfully to flick up his skirts. “It really suits you, Yuugo!  You almost look like a bride!”  

 

Even Yuuto doesn’t disagree, a light dusting of red appearing on his cheeks as he averts his eyes.

 

And Yuugo does look resplendent in a silky, backless white gown, decorated with floaty layers of sheer lace. Which Yuuri just _happened_ to be carrying around in his suitcase and was a perfect match for his size.

 

 _He planned this_ , he finally realizes, outrage boiling in his chest beneath the secondhand falsies he had to repurpose.   _All of it_.

 

Yuuya and Yuuto both take a healthy step back as Yuugo finally explodes, lunging for Yuuri’s smugly grinning face with an animalistic shriek.  

 

They never quite understood their odd partnership.  By all logic, they should have killed each other ages ago; Yuuri was a sadistic, childish shit-disturber while Yuugo is a belligerent, easily-provoked hot-head.  They can't even carry on a conversation without insults.

 

Maybe Yuugo is just a masochist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**OMAKE.**

 (In case anyone was wondering... ahaha)

 


End file.
